Baby, There's a Shark in the Water
by Varmith-Vermouth
Summary: In which Duncan does something stupid, Dexter tries to cover it up…and Freakazoid is left picking up the pieces of it all. Two shot. Slash.
1. Part 1

**Author's Note: We interrupt this fanfiction to bring this special message: I love you. Now back to the story. **

_**Dedicated to: Pointy-ears cause she's a sweetie pie. **_

_Chapter 1 _

"_But this is how the story ends.  
>Or have we just begun?<br>To kiss away the difference…  
>I know you hate this one." -The Fray<em>

Freakazoid wanted to punch something. No, not something, someone—Duncan. He wanted to smash his face in until he felt bone splintering against his hand, until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp, kick him in the stomach, spit in his face, say _that was for my fucking best friend, you dickhead._

This scared him to the core, mostly because he'd never been a truly violent person. He was a super hero; he wasn't supposed to hurt people. It was just this sick bastard that made him want to do things that were definitely illegal.

He should have punched him in the face, scared the shit out of him, gotten him out of their lives from the beginning-he knew that, now. Hindsight was 20/20. From the moment he'd first seen Duncan, Freakazoid had noticed something _off_ about him, something creepy that he knew could eventually be disastrous, but if he had _done something_ about it Dexter would have hated him.

Duncan was his brother, after all.

At the time, he had brushed it off as jealousy because being on Dexter's good side had been the most important thing in the world to Freakazoid.

Obviously, though, it wasn't just jealousy-and now that fucking psycho had hurt him and for some reason Freakazoid couldn't stop thinking it was all his fault.

He kicked the wall of the Freakazone, willing himself not to do something girly like burst into tears. Stupid Dexter had locked him up, shut down _him _of all people because he didn't want Freak getting involved. _Trying to protect me-__**he's**__ trying to protect __**me**__!_ Angrily, the blue super hero let loose a flash of lightning that echoed around the walls. They did not give—of course they didn't. Dexter was still holding him back for reasons known only to the small geek.

Duncan had, God, he'd fucking snapped and gone after Dexter. His coach had apparently recently been pushing his older brother to take steroids, and Dexter had figured it out long before anyone else in the family.

Of course he had. He was the only one who ever paid attention, who put his brain to good use. He'd even kept it from his alter ego, and then, God, this was the worst part, tried to confront the drugged and slightly too-muscled Duncan about it. And his own brother had beaten the crap out of Dexter for it, of course he did.

But it had gone so far beyond what their oblivious mother usually called "rough-housing," it was _brutal,_ punches and kicks meant to hurt, to break, and of course Dexter was helpless and just stood there and took it until he couldn't stand anymore.

How does someone get over something like that?

Freakazoid didn't know if Dexter was out of the hospital, if he was even _okay, _but he was absolutely not caving in and letting Dexter go through something like this alone.

"Dexter! DEXTER, I know you can hear me!" With a growl that was only annoyance aimed at his small geek, Freakazoid pushed against the mental barriers shielding Dexter from him, but it was no use, they didn't yield. "Let me in! Let me help-come _on,_ Dexxy!"

Without the Internet, though, all he could think about was the bruised and broken body of the person he cared about most, fucking loved to the end of the world. Freak stared in disbelief at the borders squashing his powers, thinking that maybe if he had confessed to Dexter earlier that he was the only one he could ever imagine loving that this wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't have questioned Duncan alone; he wouldn't have felt that he was on his own. They'd be out somewhere, laughing, kissing, his slender body safely tucked in Freakazoid's arms.

He wasn't even the one who found Dexter lying abandoned in the back of the school. He was in the fucking _Freakazone_ the whole time, unaware that as he fucking lay around calmly munching popcorn and watching Rat Patrol, Dexter was getting beaten to a pulp just outside. And he couldn't do anything to stop it until Dexter had slipped, let pain sweep across the link, startling Freak into action at the abrupt, paralyzing stings of Duncan's punches.

God. He remembered pleading to Dexter, several times, _begging_ Dexter to let him out to defend himself and fucking tear into Duncan.

–

_Dexter? Dexter! Say it, freak out! _

"Frehh…" Dexter had just mumbled deliriously as his legs crumpled beneath him, slumping with his back to a wall as Duncan slammed his huge fist into the side of Dexter's face one last time.

_C'mon, Dexter, I can't save us if you don't freak out! _Freakazoid could do nothing but plead, beg Dexter to let him help, to let him take over so that Duncan would never hurt anyone again, oh, he'd make sure of it.

"Freak...a…Mnnh…" Dexter's eyes had then closed of their own accord, his body shutting down to protect itself. The last thing Freakazoid remembered was Dexter stoppering their link, his powers, and the entire Freakazone going pitch black until Dexter mind did what Freak could only think of as a 're-boot.'

–

Freakazoid wished the wall would dent or something where he kicked it, so he would have something to show for his anger other than injured toes. He wanted to do things to Duncan that even third world countries with angry dictators would disapprove of. Actually he wished that the things he wanted to do wouldn't actually _kill_ Duncan so that he could do several of them, in quick succession.

The only problem was that doing so would ruin Dex's life, and he refused to give Duncan that satisfaction. Bastard had covered all his bases, too -it wasn't as if he'd only attacked Dexter himself, and he made damn sure that Dexter was too fucking afraid to even remember the incident let alone describe his attacker later, no matter how long Freakazoid prompted him across the link.

Dexter hadn't been able to understand how Duncan could have done this to him when he was his brother, but drugs made you do stupid things. Freak could feel Dexter's confusion. How could Duncan enjoy that broken, constantly teary face that was practically permanently in place now? What kind of sick bastard would even _do_ something like that?

And now Freak was the one left with the job of somehow piecing Dexter back together. All he'd ever wanted was to be with him, and now he was left with a shaking wreck who probably wouldn't know how to love again for a while.

But he would do it, piece Dexter back together, because that was what you did when you loved someone. You helped them. You fixed them. You stuck by them through thick and thin, sickness and health, yadda yadda. That didn't stop him, though; from imagining twenty different ways he could kill the person who had broken him.

A knock on his door snapped Freakazoid out of his admittedly rather depressing thoughts, and he immediately got up to open it, looking desperately for a distraction, knowing Dexter had reconnected with him, eager to meet his small geek's-

_Nut bunnies. _

But it proved to be no useful distraction at all - Dexter, standing lopsided in his doorway, crutches tucked under one arm, the smile on his face a sorely sad attempt as Freakazoid ran his gaze over Dexter' battered and bandaged form.

Freakazoid didn't know what to say. Dexter was even injured here in the Freakazone.

"Hey." It seemed hard for Dexter to move his mouth too much - the bruises that covered the left side of his face looked really painful. "Can I come in?"

It was a rhetorical question, because how many times had he walked in there without invitation, moaning about some girl or some bad grade or sobbing the first time Steph cheated on him?

He perched himself on the couch gingerly, and Freakazoid was still struggling to make words come out of his mouth. His heart was not performing the usual spastic dance that always began when Dexter entered a room - instead, it was slow and painful, clenching every time his best friend winced. His fists balled in response, his anger spreading through their mental bond like waves of ice, Dexter quickly picking up on the emotions he'd been shutting out for more than twenty four hours already.

"No, it's okay. I was just wondering. Are you...? You don't look okay, Freak."

_Oh, God. That's Dexter. Always concerned about everyone but himself._

Freakazoid didn't see why he should have to respond to the statement, because he couldn't deny it, but he didn't know how to confirm it either. Dexter glanced nervously at the shattered TV in the corner of the room - an earlier result of his unrelenting anger and high levels of cooped up electricity. Keeping someone as volatile as Freakazoid trapped for long was a bad idea, even without the threat of his human getting hurt on the other side of his mind. Normally Freak's zany antics were merely (sometimes) harmless side effects of the limitless power coursing through his super charged body-but Freakazoid was known to get genuinely hostile if Dexter was threatened. How Dexter had managed to squash his infinite powers was a mystery to Freak-but not one whose limits he wanted to test ever again.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around Dexter to make sure he was real. "Yeah? Well, you don't either. Why aren't you in your room? You should be lying down."

Dexter picked at a sticker on one of his crutches. "I wanted to come talk to you."

_I love you, _Freakazoid thought desperately. He kept it to himself. "Yeah? 'Bout what?"

Dexter's big hazel eyes watered and he turned away, which couldn't be a good sign. Somehow, Freakazoid was on the couch next to him in an instant. This tragedy had somehow put distance between them, the blatant way Dexter had pushed Freakazoid away when he obviously needed help the most wasn't going to scab over until a long time had passed.

"It's okay," Freakazoid soothed. "You can tell me. I won't..."

What? March off in a rage, breaking more TVs? Curse Dexter for making him fall in love in the first place?

Dexter squinted through his glasses delicately perched on his nose, apparently trying to keep tears from spilling over. "I don't know how to say this... I don't want to hurt you."

How could he be hurt any more than he was already? Being right all along had no benefits, leaving him only with a lasting guilt that spasmed through him every time Dexter's dead eyes met his own. "Hurt me?" Freakazoid scoffed, but his voice was choked. "_You're _the hurt one."

What could Dexter have to say that could make this worse? That he knew? That he knew, for years, that Freakazoid never once felt anything for anyone besides him? That Freakazoid would drop everything for him in a heartbeat, wherever he was? That he knew it would probably never go away? So Freakazoid took the first scene. "Why... why did you lock me up?"

Dexter flinched at the words he used, or maybe at his tone, he wasn't sure. Empathy and pity, and God, fear, trickled through their link to Freak. It was coated in Dexter's shivering emotions.

Fear. Freakazoid _never_ wanted to be someone Dexter was afraid of.

"C'mere," Freak commanded with the softest tone he could manage, pulling an unresisting Dexter into his arms. Dexter, for his part, shivered at the contact, then promptly buried his face under his chin and trembled like a puppy.

The Freakazone darkened considerably and then warmed in temperature-the lamp flickered off, casting them in darkness. "It's okay, it's okay…" The much larger super hero whispered as he curled over Dexter's slight form. Making full use of their mental bond, Freakazoid pushed two words overflowing with as much warmth to Dexter as he mentally could, lapping at the smaller boy like waves in an ocean.

_I'm here, I'm here…_

_I know._ The thought was filled to the brim with over whelming need and raw desperation, as desperate as the thin fingers clutching at his super suit while Dexter was wrapped up tight and safe, and Freakazoid understood it all in that one reply from Dexter.

_I know. _

Dexter did know-that was why he had held Freakazoid back in the first place. Dexter was shaking too hard to try to speak through a swollen throat and split lip. He clutched at the strongest life line he had then, the mental link connecting him to Freak.

_You would have gone after him, and done so much worse to him than he could ever do to me. But he's my brother and you…_

Freakazoid waited, poised and holding Dexter impossibly close.

_You're my…I c-couldn't let you- _

_Do that to yourself. I-I'm sorry. _

Granted, it wasn't the grandiose proclamation Freak was yearning to hear from his alter ego, of whom he was heels over lightning streaked hair for. But it was a start. And he could tell Dexter cared about him, maybe more than a young man should but-

_Don't be sorry. Don't you __**ever**__ be sorry. It wasn't your fault. _

_O-okay. _Dexter sniffled pathetically after that word, burying himself deeper against Freak's chest.

Freakazoid got it. Duncan would still be around. Duncan could still hurt him, and ultimately there was nothing Dexter could do.

_Just don't…next time?_ Freak whispered through the bond, going pale at the thought. _Don't ever hold me back like that again. It's my job to protect you-I'm a super hero. _

_I know._ Freak counted the tears down Dexter's cheeks, keeping his own somehow in check. Two, four, six...

Every breath obviously hurt the smaller teen, poking his injuries, every spasm of his sobbing face evidently painful.

_But I don't want you to save me._

And Freakazoid couldn't say anything at that, only sit in shocked silence. He couldn't comfort him, he couldn't look his best friend in the eyes because he would just start crying too, but it would hurt more, much more and he couldn't take that.

"Freak," Dexter hiccupped out loud suddenly, placing an arm his shoulder. His words had sliced deeper than he'd intended, Dexter could feel it. "Say something."

Like what? Nothing he could say would change Dexter's mind, and he hadn't prepared any words to persuade him for next time. He could not promise something that he knew he couldn't necessarily keep. The next time, if there was a next time, both of them knew no amount of Dexter's immense mental strength would deny Freakazoid from protecting him.

He didn't look at Dexter again, scooching back on the couch and concentrating only on the wall. His abrupt sullenness spoke volumes to the sharp Dexter.

"Freak, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I just, I c-can't-" Dexter was incoherently babbling. This could be the last time he would hear Dexter's endearing incoherent babbling.

"Freak, please. _Please._"

They stayed like that for a while, Dexter crying, and Freakazoid silent, but eventually they both felt it come to a breaking point. Sniffling one last time, Dexter dragged himself with his braced leg over to where Freakazoid was sitting.

"Goodbye," he mumbled in a choked whisper, and kissed the blue super hero on the cheek. It burned.

And then he was slowly leaving the room-the crutches stopped, so he lingered in the doorway.

But when Freakazoid looked up, he was already gone.

_I know. _


	2. Part 2

**Author's Note: Chapter two! Cause I felt so awful for doing this to those boys. I wanted them to make up. Or out apparently. Whatever. **

_Chapter 2_

"_But I, oh I, I'm gonna fix this world up for you,  
>I'll try, I'll try to build it all around you.<br>You'll never gonna have to be alone,  
>You'll always know you got someone,<br>To fix the world up for you," –James Morrison_

Dexter was in his half of their shared mind, crying his eyes out and wishing he could stop.

Because seriously, what kinda of guy cries over stupid little things like this? A lame-ass one, that's what. He was sick of people looking down on him because of his height and size and weight and his glasses and well, everything about him. How he apparently oozed some pansy aura that screamed he constantly needed to be saved.

Well he was tired of it. That was probably why he'd confronted Duncan all by himself. Sure, it was a stupid, and not thought out at all. Basically, he'd cornered a surprised and _much_ to muscled-Duncan behind the school, which was basically like setting up pins in a bowling alley. All they needed was the ball. They were alone and secluded, Duncan _hated_ Dexter, the drugs didn't help his temperament, and he had several inches and at least as many if not more pounds on him. Of course it would end horribly for his smaller, ninety-eight-pounds-when-soaking-wet weakling of a brother.

Although, admittedly, Dexter didn't think it would end this bad: one busted knee, a split lip that transcended up his face into three stitches, a black eye….and about as many bruised ribs as he could possibly handle without breaking right in half.

But the pains were like fire right now.

"Think it's about time, _hahh_…for more…medicine." Dexter grunted weakly to himself as he woke up in the real world, and shuffled over to his desk, where a tall glass of water and a few miracle pills sat waiting him, provided by his ever loving mother.

Dexter hissed as the pain stabbed him sporadically throughout his injuries as he hobbled back to his bed, where he feebly scooted the cat over and laid down next it. For a second Dexter was stricken by the worry his overly obese cat would pounce onto his bruised stomach as was custom, but Mr. Chubbikin's merely meowed at Dexter's touch, and thankfully did nothing more than burrow down right by the pained geek's head and purr like a motor boat.

"I hate this." The geek mumbled to the ceiling above him. He half expected Freakazoid to answer him-but wasn't entirely surprised when he remembered what he'd done earlier to his alter ego.

Pushed him away.

So, so far away that even someone with a short attention span as Freak would _never_ come back and forgive him for what he'd done. With all his confessions and attempts to make up with his alter ego, they'd failed him. And Dexter, in his weak and weary state of mind, supposes he deserves being alone for this, for all of it.

With less strength than he truly had left, Dexter rolled a bit on his bed, his cast making almost any position but on his back to be uncomfortable and sore. And moving his torso was about as easy as getting the cat on a diet.

"I hate sleeping alone." Dexter declared to his ceiling as he felt his mind come to a crawl and he became quite drowsy.

That was all Freakazoid needed. As soon as Dexter slipped off the sleep, (which took little to no time at all, seeing as the drugs he took was helping him snooze quicker than an infomercial.) Freak was moving from his half of their mind to Dexter's little 'room' of their shared brain space.

Alright, so technically, Freak had been eavesdropping earlier. But ever since Dexter had left the Freakazone, Freak had kept a close mind's eye on him. He couldn't help it. It was in his nature, it was practically programmed into his brain to keep Dexter safe from harm-and this time, he'd _really_ screwed the hell up.

But he could fix Dexter. He knew he could. But honestly, who else was there **but** him for Dex?

He had to fix this-what was going on between wouldn't get better if left alone. It anything, it would fester, and they'd both suffer the long term affects of being separated from one another. It was never a good idea to split them up, as crazy wild Freak was he knew he needed Dexter's calming, fretting mind to keep him in line.

Or bad things would happen, Freakazoid was sure of it.

There Dexter lay, all alone in his big bed. He was covered by a sheet to the middle of his back, where his purple pajamas peeked through. His arms were curled carefully around his pillow and his eyes were closed. He was sleeping rather tentatively, even his breaths were cautious of the pain he was still in. Though Freak could only tell from the dim thoughts being broadcasted from Dexter's half of the link, and they were pretty foggy at best. He'd taken his pain pills, then.

Freakazoid crept over to his bed, climbing onto the bed as carefully as he could muster, taking care not to disturb his partner's injuries. The brown haired teen stirred slightly but didn't open his eyes then. Moving with more care than probably anyone has ever seen the manic super hero do; Freakazoid craned his arm over the still boy, and removed Dexter's glasses off his nose, knowing that just outside in the real world, Dexter had fallen asleep with them on, again. The super hero pressed his lips to the boy's cheek, and it was then when Dexter rolled over and looked at him, blinking in the dim light, looking like he'd seen Candlejack.

"Wha-"

"I didn't want you to have to sleep alone," Freakazoid explained simply. Dexter smiled softly and curled up under the hovering hero, pressing his lips against those upturned blue ones. His arms snaked around Freak's neck and he put his hands at the small of his back. They kissed until Dexter pulled away a few moments after, looking sleepy but more relaxed than he had in weeks.

"Freakazoid…I….I'm sorry that I…" Dexter trailed off, leaving the sentence to hang in the air apologetically between them.

The super hero in question slipped his arms around Dexter and rested his wide hands over that slim waist. He leaned forward, his trademark hair standing straight up and their foreheads pressed together, breathing gentle wafts of warm air into each other's face. But then Freakazoid spoke with his mind, or rather his heart, through their strong mental link, his eyes slipping closed at the connection.

Tears welled into Dexter's eyes.

Forgiveness. And acceptance. And raw, blissful pure, so very pure _love_, so glowing and brilliant it washed over Dexter like hot bath water, wrapping around his spine and down to his toes. Freak wasn't even using his words, only raw emotions to get his feelings across.

And Dexter lapped it all up.

_I l-love you, Freakazoid. _The thought came unbidden through Dexter's half of the link and had about as much pizzazz as the color gray, but Freakazoid understood it all the same, and his arms tightened protectively. Dexter was returning his own thoughts, and Freakazoid felt like a thousand fireworks had gone off in his heart at Dexter's whispered confession. Considering his limitless powers, this could very well be true.

But then, when Dexter kissed him, back, Freak knew fireworks weren't going off anymore. It had to be nothing less than a dozen rockets, this endless stream of euphoria careening around his body at the speed of light.

Or maybe he was just picking up on the drugs running through Dex's system.

At Dexter's mental pleads, Freakazoid moved onto his back (for how could he deny his little partner, anything, ever?) and pulled Dexter with him, taking great care and supporting all the right wounds as they rolled. He moved his lips from that pale neck to that bony sternum once his skin was bared and Dexter trembled at the sweet gestures, soft whimpers falling past his parted, swollen lips.

"I want you so bad it's not even funny," Dexter whispered, flexing his hips up against him. Freakazoid chuckled softly, but there was a hint of sadness in his next words.

"That's the drugs talking."

It was Dex's turn to laugh quietly, though the sound was muffled by Freak's shoulder as he buried his nose into it and sighed happily. "I'm sleepy Freak…not high." He corrected with a mumble.

_Hmm. There's a difference? _A kiss to the pulse point in his throat.

_When you're in as much pain as I am, yes. _

…_Still?_ Worry lanced over the link, Freakazoid was worrying about Dexter with all the insistence of a mother hen.

_There's less pain now, don't worry. You're not gonna break me. _ At this warm assurance, Freakazoid merely continued his servicing, shifting his hips, and cuddling up ever so close back to his smaller half, threading his gloved hands through that chocolate hair and stroking the boy's scalp. Dexter responded to it all, preening like a parrot under the attention. He really was so beautiful. Freak cradled Dexter in his arms; resting his chin atop Dexter's head and inhaling his scent, feeling his usual high energy relax like low tide in him at Dexter's natural scent. Only Dexter could get him, of all people, in such a low keyed state. The consistency of pudding. They really did balance each other out. And while it would have been tempting to go further, oh so amazingly further, (because admit it or not they both were quite the hormonal teenagers with rampart imaginations) but Freakazoid didn't want to rush things when they absolutely _needed_ to take things slow.

He couldn't afford to lose Dexter again, in any way, shape or form.

As if reading his alter ego's mind, Dexter glanced into those bright blue eyes and smiled softly and knowingly, leaning closer as best his ribs could allow. Freak played his fingertips down the smaller's curved spine, kissing his shoulders and neck. Dexter whimpered again and closed his eyes, biting down on his bottom lip.

"Please?" Dexter begged softly with a stuck out lower lip that made his other half's mind weak in his knees. Highly powerful mental link or no, Freakazoid knew what his little partner was asking for so cutely even without.

Freak wanted to say yes. Hell, he wanted to _scream_ yes. Wanted to get _Dexter_ screaming yes….but.

The tips of his fingers brushed up against one of the stiff bandages that were peaking through Dex's pajama tops that had ridden up in all heat of the moment. When Dexter's eyes flickered down to see where Freak was looking so intently, he held back the automatic motion of tensing up and forced himself to relax. Of all people, this was the last person to ever hurt him.

"Sorry, Dexxy. Dun' wanna hurt you," He paused, then chuckled. "You're like a kitten….or a baby owl." With those glasses. God. So fucking cute.

"A-an owl?"

Well. That certainly ruined any romantic mood Dexter had been hoping to fester. Now all he wanted to do was sulk in a corner over the loss of his manliness. (Freak called it pouting.)

Because that downright adorable blush from his little partner was threatening to topple any of the remaining dregs in Freak's reserves, and straight up for it.

Still. Not even he could easily ignore the lances of pain that flickered across Dexter's hazel eyes as the boy tried, and failed, to situate himself comfortably with his many wounds. Protecting Dexter was his first and foremost objective….even if that meant from himself. Seeing the troubles Dexter was going through when it came to a simple maneuver, Freak cradled Dexter closer and carefully tipped them on their sides, and let Dexter fall back onto his bed, but Freak's arm still pillowed the drugged teen with great care.

His lips fell upon Dexter's eyelids in feather light breaths and Freak pressed his lips against Dexter's ear. "It's all okay now…right?" he asked softly, seeking assurance.

"Y-yes. I-"

_Then shhh. I got you. _

Dexter languidly kissed his cheeks and snuggled close, fondling the ends of that spiked black hair with a satisfied sigh. Freak held Dexter against him, keeping him warm and safe. "I got you," He whispered again, kissing his forehead.

"I know." Dexter answered sleepily, already falling back under the haze of slumber.

_I got you, and I'm never letting you out of my sight again. _


End file.
